


Heartlines

by noos



Series: stolen moments [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:38:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noos/pseuds/noos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wakes up startled, her arm spread out to her left, her hand fisted in the sheets where Gendry is supposed to be. She spies him in the corner of the forge fussing over something and muttering under his breath. Based off a scene briefly mentioned in my previous story TWBK. AU where Arya and Gendry stayed with the brotherhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartlines

He doesn't leave the forge for the entire day. Not even when she tells him she's heading into the woods to try her hand at hunting. Not even when she comes back with a wild rabbit and a squirrel in tow. And not even when they call him out to sup with them on rabbit stew and roasted squirrel. If he sees her come in when she heads over to their mattress, he doesn't make it known, but he puts down his hammer and stops beating the searing steel after a short while. He doesn't come to bed though, seems to be preoccupied when she asks him why he won't get some rest. He mumbles something about needing to finish his work before dawn but she doesn't really hear what he's saying, and she falls into a fitful sleep soon after. The first time Arya awakes that night, she's panting and sweating, Sansa's name on her lips. Gendry's beside her in a second, pushing her hair out of her face and telling her it's only a bad dream. He holds her hand until she falls back asleep. The second time she jolts awake, he doesn't hear her. She wakes up startled, her arm spread out to her left, her hand fisted in the sheets where Gendry is supposed to be. She spies him in the corner of the forge fussing over something and muttering under his breath. She wants him to come to bed, knows she won't truly settle until he's next to her. She doesn't tell him. She falls into a restless slumber soon after. The third and final time she wakes, she hears him leave for his morning walk. She's out of the forge by the time he's back.

He comes and finds her at midday. She's sitting with Tom and Anguy when Gendry comes up from behind, a large bundle slung on his back, and tells her he wants to show her something. She doesn't have time to protest before he's guiding her away with his hand at the small of her back. She feels a tingle where his fingers brush her back, feels suddenly cold when he finally removes his hand. She's too preoccupied to really notice where he's leading her. When she finally does take in her surroundings, they're at the edge of the forest going further in. He seems a bit lost, but he was never good at finding tracks so she figures it'll take him some time to find his destination.

"Where are we going?" She finally asks, realizing she hadn't even bothered to ask him before, and instead had just followed him blindly where he was going.

"You'll see when we get there," he mumbles distractedly, taking uneasy steps into the woods, counting trees as he walks on by.

"But what is it that you want to show me?" Arya asks again, her curiosity peaking.

He doesn't answer, doesn't even seem to hear her. He continues looking to his left and his right, taking careful steps towards his destination.

"Gendry, where is it that you're taking me?" She continues following him, turning her head whichever way he's looking, trying to see what he seems to be looking for. When he doesn't answer, she starts to get annoyed. "You stupid bull-headed boy, where are you tak-"

"Shhhhhh," he interrupts her, putting one hand on her lips, the other on his own. "Can you hear it?" He continues, and there's something in his voice, something resembling happiness that makes him sound almost like a child. He takes another step and then starts walking faster.

"I can't hear anything!" Arya huffs out, because she really can't hear anything, not when she's struggling to keep up with him.

He comes to a halt suddenly and she nearly crashes into him. When she finally pulls herself together and is able to take a look around, she's taken aback for a second. They're deep in the forest, in a part she's sure she's never been in before. There's a stream of clear water not far from where she stands, surrounded by bushes and trees so big they remind her of the heart tree in the Godswood at Winterfell. She's not usually an emotional person, but she can feel her eyes start to water as memories assault her senses. The feel of the leaves crunching beneath her feet as Bran chases her by the heart tree, the sound of Sansa's laughter as Jon and Robb throw blood red leaves at them, the smell of Ned's cloak as she sits bundled up in it while he teaches her about the old Gods.

"This is what I wanted to show you," Gendry finally speaks, interrupting her thoughts.

She can feel him looking at her before she turns to look at him too. He takes in her face, and a look of concern flashes across his features. She gives him a small smile before turning her attention back to the trees, taking careful steps towards the biggest one, an old and mighty oak tree with a trunk as thick as that of the heart tree at home. She hears the leaves crunching beneath her feet, and a small smile tugs at her lips. She reaches her hand out to touch the trunk of the tree when Gendry is suddenly by her side. He puts down his bundle and slumps down by her feet, leaning his back against the trunk. She does the same. They're so close their knees are touching, but she's too tired, too happy, too content to move.

"This place is beautiful," she hears herself say.

"It is," Gendry agrees, seemingly lost in thought. He's quiet for a few seconds before he plucks up the courage to go on. "Listen, Arya," he starts, turning to look at her. She does the same, and notices for the first time that he's fidgeting.

"Is something the matter?" She asks when he fails to continue.

"What? No, I just, um, I… I wanted… today's your nameday and I wanted you to have a good day," he blurts out quickly and she almost doesn't understand.

She blinks as he looks at her nervously. Her nameday. He remembered. She's not sure she remembered. "Who told you?" She asks before she can help herself.

"No one," he answers quickly looking at her then turning back to stare at his hands. "No one told me. Well, you did. You mentioned it once a while back and it just stuck with me."

They're both quiet for a few moments, each of them lost in thought.

"Thank you," Arya whispers almost too low to hear, turning her head to look at him, her cheeks blushing lightly. Gendry does the same, and he can't help but mirror her smile.

"It's not much, I know," he starts mumbling nervously, "I just thought it would chee-"

"It's perfect," she interrupts. "I can't remember the last time I celebrated my nameday so thank you," she continues.

"You didn't celebrate your nameday back in Winterfell?" He asks sounding surprised.

"I did, but I've been away from home for so long, it almost feels like my life before was a dream."

"What did you used to do on your nameday?" He finally voices the question that's been on his mind for the better part of the day.

She hears his question but is too distracted by the way he looks at her to answer. The look on his face, it almost reminds her of the way her father looks at her mother. Looked at her mother. He's dead now, she reminds herself.

"We used to throw a big feast," She forces out, pushing her thoughts aside.

"A feast? That doesn't sound very much like something you would enjoy," he raises an eyebrow as he looks at her.

"It isn't," she agrees, surprised by how well he knows her. "Sansa's nameday is two days after mine, and she loves feasts and dresses and lemon cakes. She used to insist on throwing a big feast every year," she continues with a wistful look on her face. As much as her sister annoyed her, she misses her.

Gendry looks at her with a smile playing on his lips as he waits for her to go on.

"My mother never accepted that I wasn't a girl in the proper sense of the word. She always insisted the feast be as much about my nameday as Sansa's. I hated it. Truly, completely hated it. But my mother never really got it, she always thought I would eventually grow tired of trying to be a boy. She never understood that I didn't want to be a boy. I like being a girl just fine. Just one that wears breeches instead of a dress."

"I like that you're a girl too," Gendry blurts out. He feels a flush make its way up his neck as he realizes what he said.

Arya lets out a small giggle and Gendry smiles nervously.

"Thank you?" She asks still laughing and Gendry joins in. "Anyway, it wasn't all bad," Arya starts again, continuing with her story. "My father always realized that the feast was more Sansa's affair than mine, so he allowed me to have anything I wanted for the event. My only condition was that Jon be allowed to sit by me during the feast. Mother was never happy about that. But it didn't matter, because for a day every year, Jon would sit by me and Robb and they would spoil me with stories about knights and battles, and they would sneak me summerwine and the three of us would drink more than we were allowed."

"Now that sounds more like you," he smiles as he takes her in. She's pretty, he thinks. Not in the conventional sense, but if there is one thing Arya Stark isn't, it's conventional. But there is also a sadness to her beauty. She is so young still, and yet has seen more horrors than most people will in a lifetime.

Arya feels nervous under Gendry's intense gaze. His eyes take her in, his eyebrows knitted together, and she feels almost naked.

"What did you do on your nameday?" She asks trying to divert the attention. That seems to do the trick.

"No, no. Today is all about you. And anyway, I haven't given you your present yet," he reaches out to the bundle he discarded earlier on the grass beside him.

"Present?" Arya asks surprised, a sparkle in her eyes. Her stomach flutters. He got me a present. She cranes her neck to look around him. He finally pulls out a long parcel, delicately wrapped in a brown fabric that looks suspiciously like the tunic Anguy had on the night before.

"It's not much," he starts nervously, placing the parcel in her lap.

She stares at the parcel almost afraid to unwrap it. No one outside of her family has ever remembered her nameday, let alone gotten her a present.

"And it's not meant to replace the original," he continues somehow more nervous than before.

Arya finally unwraps the parcel and reveals a newly-forged sword. Long and slender, it's a tall as Needle was, and she recognizes the Valyrian steel for what it is. She can't help but wonder how Gendry was able to get his hands on it. The pommel takes the shape of a wolf, and engraved in tiny letters on the side are the words "Winter is coming."

"Think of it as a temporary replacement for when you find Needle," Gendry continues trying to ignore his sweaty palms.

Arya slowly examines the sword. She feels herself choke up a little, something that Gendry seems to sense as well.

"If you hate it, we can re-forge it, or throw it away and forge a whole new one, or you can use it to get rid of me and forge a new one for yourself, or…" Gendry continues mumbling nervously.

"It's perfect," she whispers laughing slightly, because it really is. "Thank you," she continues.

Gendry barely has time to register the smile on Arya's face before she attacks him, throwing herself into his lap and putting her arms around him. She holds onto him as he tries to wrap his head around the fact that Arya Stark is hugging him. He finally pulls himself together and returns the hug.

"So you like it?" He asks, smiling.

"Like it?" Arya nearly yells as she pulls her head back to look at Gendry. She can see him wince but is too happy to care. "I love it," she continues kissing him on the cheek. "Thank you," she dives in for another kiss on his forehead. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you," she continues peppering his face with kisses in between words, on his nose, his eyelid, his brow, laughing happily. "Thank you," she breathes out one last time, noticing the flush on his face.

Her arms are still wrapped tightly around his neck and his firm ones have planted themselves on her waist. Their eyes lock together and she knows she should get up. So she does, but not before giving him one last kiss on the corner of his mouth.

He has a stupid look on his face. He knows that. He should probably close his mouth. But he doesn't care. This was so much better than how he imagined it would go. He watches her as she takes her new sword and starts jumping around him in circles hitting an imaginary target. The stupid look on his face finally turns into a smile.


End file.
